Enough Hope to Keep Dreaming
by Tadpole24
Summary: "Remember when we were kids and made that pact that if we both reached 30 and were unmarried, we'd tie the knot? Well guess whose birthday it is." CS AU for a tumblr prompt. **NOW COMPLETE**
1. It Could All Be Smoke and Mirrors

_**So I was given a prompt for "Hey, remember that pact we made as kids that if we both reached 30 and were unmarried, we'd get hitched? Well guess whose birthday it is," and somehow turned it into a little multichapter tale. Title taken from 'Mirage' by Ricki-Lee. **_

_**I have most of this written, so there shouldn't be any delays in posting this at least once a week, twice if I'm feeling generous ;) There will most likely be an M rated chapter down the track too. Enjoy, m'dears. **_

…

Enough Hope to Keep Dreaming

…

Emma Swan had never been one for a lot of friends throughout her school years, but standing here, watching two of her closest friends dance together for the first time as husband and wife makes her think that she chose wisely. Killian appears at her side and she loops an arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder as the music reaches its crescendo and the MC invites the rest of the bridal party out onto the dancefloor.

"Ready to dance, milady?" he offers, taking a step towards Mary Margaret and David. Behind them, she sees her fellow bridesmaids and the groomsmen follow their lead as the best man and maid of honour take the floor next to their best friends.

She can't help the smile that reaches her face when she looks over at the happy couple before turning back to Killian and sighing deeply, "Remember I have no idea what I'm doing," she prompts, clutching his hand a little tighter.

He chuckles and slides his hand around her back, pulling her closer to him, "It's okay darling, you picked a partner who knows what he's doing."

She could argue that it was Mary Margaret and David who paired them up together and it would be just like normal, just the way it had been since they were 14 years old and meeting in high school. But, for once, she just accepts his logic and is happy to remain peaceful and at ease with the way things have managed to turn out.

_Growing up in foster care had been hard but it was when she moved to a new high school that she really thought things were going to be tough. Her first day had been spent in misery, hiding from the crowds of people who all had their friends with them. Even the other new kids seemed to have formed a tentative friendship and were all sitting together at one table in the cafeteria. _

_It was the life she was used to living – solitary and always on the move – so it was almost difficult to believe someone was asking her to stop. The petite girl with the pixie cut had introduced herself as Mary Margaret and she'd been craving some female support in her little group of three because David and Killian were being typical males and talking about sports when she wanted to discuss what to wear to their freshman dance. _

_Emma had smiled and said that she didn't really own any dresses and Mary Margaret had told her she could borrow something of hers. _

_It was always easy with them. _

The rest of the wedding guests make their way onto the dancefloor and Emma sees her chance to leave it open up, but Killian keeps a close hold on her, whispering in her ear, "Trust me, darling."

And she does. She trusts him implicitly, but this is dancing and they've almost made it through a complete song without her embarrassing herself so she's reluctant to push her chances. But his hand on the small of her back pulls her in and she feels immediately safer, answering him with a soft, "Okay."

There's a knot in her belly that reminds her how difficult it is becoming to ignore her feelings for this man, but he's still getting over Milah breaking his heart and she's scared to be the one to help him forget her. She's been the rebound before and it always ends in misery. She was even slightly reluctant to come to this wedding without some kind of a back-up plan. Mary Margaret had told them both that they could bring dates, hinting at that damn phone app she had downloaded on Emma's phone and signed her up to. But, in the end, they figured that she and Killian would be spending most of the night together anyway, so they'd decided to be each other's dates as well as important parts of the bridal party.

She keeps her lips sealed and just lets him hold her close and sway her the way she's dreamed about as the song ends and the crowd around them turns to applaud the happy married couple.

_She remembers the first time she had noticed something not quite right about her friends. They had been giggly and secretive in their final year of school, often appearing at lunch well after Killian and Emma had eaten their food. She first questioned Mary Margaret about it while they were out shopping for their prom dresses – they'd come a long way from the borrowed clothes of freshman year, both working part time jobs to earn a little money and save for something beautiful to wear. _

"_So I'm guessing you and David will be going to prom together?"_

_Mary Margaret had averted her gaze to look at a particularly gaudy gown that Emma knew she was just using as a distraction technique, "Yeah. I guess. I mean, you and Killian are too, aren't you?"_

"_Of course," she had said, not a trace of awkwardness in her voice, "but we're just going as friends."_

_The brunette had flushed red and Emma couldn't do it to her anymore, "Why didn't you just tell me? I'm happy for you guys!"_

"_I don't know," she'd answered, "I suppose we didn't want to ruin anything."_

Emma looks across to her friends, who are still lovingly clinging to each other on the dance floor and then loops her arm through Killian's once more, "Photo booth?"

He grins, "Photo booth."

…

Weddings are weird things, Emma muses as she pulls out their string of photos from the booth. She'd never imagine holding hands with Killian on a normal day – it was just that little bit too dangerous – but here, tonight, any chance to have a hand on each other seems normal.

He leans in close, breath blowing against her cheek as he looks at the pictures in her hand, "What are we even doing in this one?"

She laughs. They seem to be caught between poses, mouths hanging open and hands flailing in blurs through the air. "Wait, this one's worse!"

He nods, laughing at the photo taken immediately after they'd tried to shift in the little booth and bumped heads instead. She looks up at him to see if the spot on his temple is still red but, instead, she notices a brushing of pink across his cheek from where her lips must have just barely grazed in their collision. Reaching up, she presses her thumb against his stubble and brushes the lipstick away and it all at once becomes too dangerous for her.

She snatches her hand away, but he grasps it at the wrist and brings her knuckles to his lips. "Emma," he says, low and deep.

Her breath left her moments ago and all she can manage is a small whimper in response, "Mmm."

"Remember…remember when we were kids? After those two," he gestures over his shoulder at Mary Margaret and David, "got together. We made a pact…" She remembers that pact very well. If they both made it to 30 and were unmarried, they would wed.

Her heart is hammering in her chest at the prospect and she's just about to nod or say yes or _do something _when there's a clinging of a spoon on a glass and everything shifts. She can see the moment he becomes scared and chickens out, instead turning towards where the crowd is gathering near the stage, "We should go and watch them cut the cake."

She exhales, not sure if she's relieved or disappointed, nodding as she pulls her hand from his and tucks the photos in her clutch on the way past their table.

He doesn't reach for her hand again and she has never felt so distant from him as right now.

…

There is a small group of the bridal party who breaks off from the crowd to jump in a car and drive back up to the hotel that they're all staying at. Mary Margaret's college roommate, Ruby, takes the back seat with her fiancé, Victor, leaving Emma and Killian to pick a seat in the front or the back as Leroy kindly drops them off.

Emma slides in next to Ruby and lets Killian take the passenger seat, the feelings of distance growing between her and her best friend.

Victor's hand not so subtly makes its way up Ruby's leg, not so high that it's indecent, but enough that Emma finds herself tugging on the skirt of her own dress to bring the hemline down a little and she can't wait until she's out of this car, in her hotel bed and allowed to break down a little at the fact that Mary Margaret and David are married now and everyone else she knows seem to have gotten their lives together enough that they've found happiness. Whilst she and Killian seem to be living in a perpetual world of denial.

"Thanks Leroy," she says along with the rest of them as they finally clamour out of the car and towards the lights of the hotel.

Ruby and Victor wave as they depart for their room, leaving Emma and Killian standing in the lobby waiting for the elevators to hurry up and collect them.

The reception had been lit up with fairy lights and candles and sometimes, in the low light, it's easy to forget just how blue Killian's eyes are but, as he turns and faces her now, she feels her breath catch in her chest as she remembers just what those eyes do to her.

And maybe it's the champagne talking, or maybe it's because weddings make her feel lonely, but she has never in her life wanted to kiss a man more than she wanted to kiss Killian Jones right now.

The dull hum of activity in the lobby dies down in her ears, leaving only their staggered breathing to be heard and she swears he's leaning in too.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispers, his breath touching her lips.

It's almost instinctual to answer with, "You're only saying that because you're my date."

A sad smile crosses his face as his hand traces up her arm, over her shoulder, cupping her cheek. "No," he says simply and she knows it's because he means what he's said. He always means it…

_Ding!_

The moment drops out from under them as the elevator doors open in front of them. She sighs as his hand drops from her face, smiling and shaking her head to get the idea of _them _out of her head. They could never work. His heart is still mending from Milah's indiscretion and she's still not sure if she can trust another person with hers.

But, as she presses the button for level 5 and he presses the one for level 6, she can't help but wish that they were going in the same direction.

…

_**Thoughts?**_


	2. And I Could Be No Nearer

_**Thank you all so much for your kind and beautiful feedback for the first chapter of this little tale. Hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! To those gorgeous people who reviewed with specific requests, I promise those wishes will come true, but I had written most of this before posting, so it might be a little way down the track :)**_

…

Chapter Two

…

Being back to reality is weird. If it weren't for the three little rows of photos on her fridge, she might have forgotten that the wedding even happened, that it all wasn't some elaborate dream and she's going to wake up in the morning like normal and have her apartment filled with the sound of Mary Margaret's voice telling her to make sure she takes lunch with her to work, like she's her damn mother or something.

But the apartment is silent this morning, Mary Margaret having moved in with David just before the wedding. They're away on their honeymoon anyway, so she couldn't call just to hear her tell her that she's being stupid for pining after something she can't have. Could she?

Emma opens her phone, flicking across to messages and opening up her conversation with Mary Margaret. The last text that's sitting there is from before the wedding and it feels like a lifetime ago. She taps out a quick, _Hope you're having fun Mrs Nolan,_ message, adding, _Miss you,_ to the end and wishing that that covered what she is feeling right now. She just needs another person's opinion.

She flicks out of that message thread and scrolls through the others, berating her heart for skipping that beat when she sees Killian's name just under Mary Margaret's. After a moment, she spots just the person she needs – Elsa. They haven't spoken in months, but it's always easy to pick up where they left off with Elsa and they run in mostly different circles so, when they do catch up, it's easy to get an outsider's opinion on everything they need to. Emma wonders if she's even in the States at the moment, but decides to take the chance.

_Coffee soon?_

The reply is almost instant and Emma actually feels relief flood her body.

_I'm free at 5. _

They tap out a couple more messages, deciding on a location and then it's time to face reality and get to work. Emma pulls on her leather jacket, opens the fridge to take stock of what she has that might resemble lunch, closes the fridge in disappointment and tries to ignore the photos glaring at her from under a stupid "Wish You Were Here" magnet she had gotten from Elsa's latest travel journalism trip to Norway.

Yep, that would do it. No food worth eating, pining after a friend and wishing for another friend's perfect life of jet setting across the globe…

Reality sucks.

…

Regina obviously senses that something is off with Emma because she lets her leave work early for the first time in…well, ever, which leaves her arriving at the café about ten minutes before Elsa. She takes a seat and pulls out her phone, smiling when she sees that Mary Margaret has replied with a selfie of herself and David lying on the beach looking the picture of perfection, caption across the bottom reading, _Make sure you eat vegetables while I'm away. I'll know if you don't. Miss you too._

She laughs, snapping a quick photo of the café's specials board. _Coffee is made from beans, right?_

She closes the message and sees Killian's name glaring at her again. She wishes she could think of something witty and wonderful to say to him just so they could talk, but nothing seems right. Which is weird, considering the last message from him is about which cufflinks he should wear for the wedding and all their messages before that came without thought. It's always been easy for them to just talk. But today is a challenge.

Elsa breezes in with a smile on her face at just the right moment, sitting herself down across from Emma and reaching out to hold her hands across the table, "I am so glad you messaged! I have big news."

Emma can already see the ring but she lets Elsa tell her all about how Jack had proposed last week while they had been out ice skating at Rockefeller. "He's been wanting to ask all winter, but work has been crazy for me and I haven't been home much. The rink closes soon though, so he finally did it." She continues to tell her about how it is actually perfect because now they can have the wedding before she's off on another long work trip later in the year.

"I'm so happy for you," she says. And it's genuine. Despite how rotten she feels about her own love life, she has been waiting for Jack to propose to Elsa for years now.

Their coffee and hot chocolate arrive and Emma takes the moment to remind herself that, while she invited Elsa here to talk about her own problems, this is a big deal and she needs to dedicate some time to talking about the upcoming wedding first.

Elsa beats her to it though, setting her cappuccino down, "So what about you? Any men on the horizon?"

And despite it being the very thing that Emma had been wanting to talk about, she finds it exceptionally hard to say the words out loud. She kind of shrugs and opens her mouth a few times before her friend jumps in to save her.

"Oh this is it, isn't it?" she starts, clasping her hands in front of her, "This is a you and Killian thing. Oh god, what have I missed? Did something happen at the wedding?"

"Not…exactly. Well, sort of. He brought up the pact," she says all in a rush.

Her eyes meet Elsa's for the first time since this line of questioning began and she's got to laugh at the expression on her friend's face – it's like she's a child on Christmas morning, "And what did you say to the pact?"

"Well…"

But Elsa isn't waiting, "Emma Swan. If you tell me that you broke the pact…"

She bites her lip, "He didn't ask."

The excitement levels drop significantly after that, Elsa's hands coming to rest under her chin as she stares her friend down, "This cycle has got to end between you two. It's been going for years and I'm worried about both of you."

"Elsa, I didn't get you here to worry about me. I just want to know what to do." She shrugs, "My whole life has been built around looking out for myself, but he's shared that burden with me and I trust him. But we do this dance over and over…"

"Tell him," Elsa cuts in, "You need to tell him you love him-"

"I don't know if it's love…"

But Elsa persists, "Tell. Him." She reaches out across the table, taking Emma's hand in her own once more, "You two will work the rest out as it comes."

…

Emma's eyes are beginning to slide shut as she lies in bed trying to compose this damn message that could tear apart everything that she's held dear for the last 15 years.

_Or it could make it infinitely better_, she reminds herself, looking back at the blank message on her phone.

She nearly throws the device away when it buzzes in her hand a minute later, her heart beating like mad against its confines when she sees it's a message from Killian. She smiles, scrolling up and thinking that, even if she doesn't get this impossible message to him tonight, at least they'll be talking like old times and maybe that'll be enough.

Except this is too much like old times and her stomach ties itself into instant knots as she stares at the three word message on her screen.

_So, Milah called…_

And what is she supposed to do with _that_? She probably called to make plans to come over to his place so they can fuck until they fall back into their sick cycle of despair. Milah called. Milah fucking called. Of course she did.

Emma stares to the ceiling, willing her eyes not to fill with tears as she sucks in a deep breath and closes out of her messages. Maybe if she ignores it, it'll go away.

But then her phone buzzes again and she's powerless. She has to look, has to know.

It's another short text, another stab to her gut.

_We're having dinner this Friday._

And there it is. The mess of her life shining a torch in her face just to make sure she's having a properly rough time of it.

_That's great, _she taps out, not caring if it sounds detached and insincere. They had both aired their grievances about Milah after the break up; Killian knows _exactly _what she thinks of the woman who crushed his heart by going back to her husband on the evening Killian had been set to propose. No one had known she'd ever been married and it had been brutal to watch her best friend try to pick up his spirits and keep going when it had all fallen apart.

And now she's just calling him and making dates and Emma's heart is racing for a whole other reason, anger pumping through her veins.

"Shit," she whispers, as she leans back into her pillows, wishing they would just swallow her because feeling like this sucks.

She ignores the smiley face that Killian has replied to her with and instead swipes across to her recently added apps. Mary Margaret had insisted she'd be able to find a date to bring to the wedding using this thing – it's how Ruby and Victor had met after all – but Emma had been ignoring it since the day she'd signed up, knowing that Killian would be her date.

But now… Well, now she needs something (or someone) to do on Friday evening to keep her distracted, so she opens the app with its 27 notifications and starts culling down her choices. It's six months until her birthday, so maybe she can find one that'll put her out of her misery of waiting for a stupid pact to come to fruition and marry her by then too.

…

_**I'm sorry. Thoughts?**_


	3. But I'm Just Gonna Keep Trying

_**Seriously, words cannot explain the utter love I feel for you guys. Thank you for continuing to read. I've now completed most of the final chapter and can happily tell you that this little tale will run for 7 chapters and will have an epilogue to tie it all up :) Can't wait to share it with you all.**_

…

Chapter Three

…

It's probably a bad idea to go for dinner with him on Wednesday, but it's what they've always done. Their mid-week catch up usually includes Mary Margaret and David but, with them tanning themselves on a beach in Tahiti, it's just the two of them.

He swings himself into the booth looking like he owns the place even though it's the first time they've been here, Emma having suggested they try it out. He sits opposite her and pushes a pint across the table towards her. She looks up in greeting and smiles, "Hey," then looks down at the beer in confusion – they usually buy their own drinks, "Thanks?"

He grins, "There's no nail left to chew, it looked like you needed a vice."

Emma looks down at her hand, surprised to see that yes, she had been chewing on her nails. Turns out she was more nervous about tonight than she thought.

"Bad day at work, or…?"

She doesn't even know how to tackle that one, so she just agrees with him, "Yeah, Regina wants monthly targets met and she's keeping on top of us pretty harshly."

"Well," he starts, lifting his glass and indicating that she do the same, "good thing Emma Swan always gets her man."

They clink glasses and sip at their drinks while Emma thinks to herself about how much she wishes that were true. It's probably a terrible idea to drown her sorrows in beer, but she'll have a meal in front of her soon enough, so she figures there's no harm in drinking a little faster than she usually would on a weekday.

It's just like normal after that, easy laughter and banter over a good meal and a few drinks. Emma excuses herself to the bathroom and when she comes back, Killian is tucking his phone away.

"Just sorted out details for Friday with Milah."

Ah, of course. Milah. On Friday. How did she ever think she was going to get out of talking about that one?

"Oh," she says, trying her hardest to fake happiness, "lovely."

He sees right through her though. "Come on then, Swan, let me have it," he says, holding his arms wide and open.

She just smiles as she reapplies her lipstick, having noticed it'd all but come off when she'd checked herself over in the mirror in the bathroom. Normally she wouldn't care, but tonight she wants Killian's eyes on _her _lips, wants him to think about her.

"Look, if you think this is a good idea then I'll support you. You know that."

"But if it's a bad idea?"

She tucks her lipstick away and rubs her lips together, making a show of it way more than she usually would, "If it's a bad idea, then I'll be here for you too."

"And…" he says expectantly.

A tight smile passes across her face briefly because he can always tell when there's more to be said. Emma's tried to be polite in the past when it comes to any of Killian's "conquests", always tried to see the positive side of things. But it comes at a cost to her wellbeing and, tonight, she's finding that a little liquid courage is loosening her lips.

"And I will also be there to say 'I told you so.'" She catches the way his eyes shift, as though he had been expecting it, but also not, "Killian, we've spoken about this a hundred times. I've seen you throwing up every ounce of alcohol you tried to shove down your throat in an attempt to forget her. I've seen the dark circles under your eyes when you didn't sleep. I've seen you limp around and pick up broken pieces of your soul while you still secretly check her social media to see what she's doing. I watched you fall in love with her and I saw you fall out of it too. You've just got your life back. And maybe she knows that.

"It just seems so odd that as soon as you're on top of the world again, she's there to tear it down for you."

It's silent for a long moment when she finishes speaking, her eyes darting around the table and not quite able to meet his. She's tried to keep it in and, realistically, she probably could have held out for a little longer, but he needs to hear it. He needs to know that the person he trusts with all that he has doesn't trust this other woman.

"Wow," he breathes out eventually, starting to collect his keys from the table. "So I'll let you know how it goes on Friday."

Her resolve cracks at the broken way he looks at her, "Killian, wait."

He turns back but doesn't sit down, "Emma, I know she broke me but you didn't even stop to ask why she's suddenly made this decision to contact me. You just assumed the worst and were done with her."

She's trying not to make this a scene, but it's as though he's forgotten every single bit of pain he went through, "Killian, she-"

"I _know _what she did," he hisses. "I'm not asking her to marry me, it's just dinner. She and her husband have split up and she wants to apologise."

She already knows that it's more than an apology she's after. If that's the only impression Milah had given Killian, he wouldn't have asked for Emma's support. She can already see the hope in his eyes that this is the beginning of something and it kills her. But she's not going to cross examine her friend, so she just nods, "I'm sorry Killian. I'm just worried about you."

He takes another step back towards the table and she turns in her seat, pushing herself to the edge of the booth so that they're barely a step apart. "I'm lonely, Swan. Seeing Mary Margaret and David wed was beautiful, but it only served as a reminder that I'm only getting older."

She remembers the way his voice had curled around her name at the reception, the way his lips had brushed her knuckles, the way he'd almost said it, almost asked her about that ridiculous pact they'd made when they were eighteen and foolish. It had seemed so far away, thirty had seemed ancient to their youthful minds. Neither one of them thought they'd make it to this age without white dresses and tiered cakes in their memories.

"We're not that old," she says, when all she wants to tell him is that she's lonely too. "We still have time."

He leans in, letting his lips fall to her forehead in a soft kiss. Her eyes slip shut as he lingers there wishing they could just forget the world and stay in this moment forever. He pulls away eventually though, smiling sadly as he swings his keys around on his finger, "I'm thirty in less than two weeks, Emma. It's not _that much_ time."

…

His words stay with her all the way home and until she crawls under her blankets that night. It's really not that much time until they've both reached the age their younger selves deemed too old to pursue the dating scene any more. Realistically she knows that it's not an old age, that she could get married after thirty and start a happy life with someone at any point in her life. It was just an arbitrary number they had chosen when they were kids.

But it still lingers at the edge of every thought she has for the rest of the night.

The ceiling becomes a bore to stare at after a while and she'll be locked up in a mad house if anyone was to ever know how many questions she throws at the inanimate object. So she picks up her phone and flicks over to that damn app.

She'd made contact with a couple of seemingly decent people. One had ignored her, one had sent her an incredibly inappropriate photo (that she wasted no time in sharing with Mary Margaret just to get back at her for making her join this stupid thing) and one had replied.

And he was nice.

She had told herself that she didn't pick the bar for tonight's dinner purely from Walsh's recommendation but, in all honesty, she had. And she was kind of looking forward to telling him that she'd been there.

Upon opening their message thread though, she finds that he's beaten her to the punch having sent her a photo of the bar in question with a quick caption stating, _**seriously, this place is made for you**__._

The picture is of a black and white swan salt and pepper shaker set on the bar, something she hadn't noticed when she'd been in there. Taking note of the time he'd sent the picture she smiles, knowing that she can torture him a little.

_If you'd panned that camera around about 180 degrees, you would have seen me eating a steak._

His reply is instant, which she likes – if it means he's not playing games, she likes it even more.

_**No. Way.**_

_I don't take recommendations lightly. _

_**Well then I recommend I take you to a little place I know this Friday.**_

She pauses because this is what she had wanted but, now that it's a reality, she's terrified. Another message buzzes through:

_**That is, if you want…**_

She smiles at that and thinks of what she would be doing otherwise, knowing full well that she would sit at home alone and eat onion rings while checking her phone constantly for a sign that it had all gone sour between Killian and Milah.

_Sounds amazing._

…

Getting through Thursday is hell – it's all stakeouts and chase downs and, by the end of the day, she's so exhausted that she doesn't even make it to her bed, instead curling up on the couch.

Friday is better and, she realises, it's because of the prospect of a date at the end of the day that she's smiling a little more.

Walsh texts her on her lunch break, asking if she would like to be picked up or to meet at the restaurant. She bites her lip as she responds, knowing that the option she's choosing will mean he'll have to drop her home as well, but it _has_ been a while and he _does_ seem nice…

_You can come by mine._

Still, she wasn't born yesterday and she gives him the address for the apartment building two numbers down, asking him to text when he arrives.

She sits on the edge of her bed waiting for the text. She's been ready for the last half hour, pacing her apartment and messaging Elsa (who is simply telling her that this is all a bad idea and she should be going to rescue Killian from Milah instead of going on a date with this Walsh guy) to keep her mind off what's happening on the other side of the city, where Killian is probably doing the same thing.

Eventually she just stops, takes a deep breath and opens his name on her phone. It's only been two days since they've spoken, but it feels like an eternity and, just because they're both going out tonight with other people, it doesn't mean they can't speak to each other.

_Good luck tonight, _she types, then quickly adds, _You should wear your blue tie. Milah would like it. _

She hits 'send' before she can second guess herself, standing up to smooth out the black leather dress she's wearing as she feels her phone vibrate with a new message which is not from Killian.

…

_**Thoughts?**_


	4. Climbing, Pushing Through

_**Thank you to all the kind reviewers who are still supporting this despite the angst balls I'm throwing. Hopefully this chapter eases things a teensy tiny bit :) Kind of. **_

_**Also, for those who asked in chapter 1, let the flashbacks begin.**_

…

Chapter Four

…

_He looks shattered. Absolutely broken and shattered. In every sense of the word._

_The bartender eyes them cautiously when Killian orders two more shots. Emma slides the money across the bar, knowing that her friend is in no way capable of making the connection between cash and alcohol right now._

"_Last call," the bartender says as he accepts Emma's money, also accepting her grateful nod. _

_Killian frowns at the development, but downs his shot and gets to his feet nonetheless. "Right Swan," he slurs, "you heard the man." _

_Emma tips her head back and finishes her shot as well, glad that the bartender had understood her hints about an hour ago to start filling her glasses with water. She's still remarkably tipsy, but coherent enough to escort Killian home._

"_C'mon then," she says, looping her arm through his and leading them out to the taxi line. They manage to jump in a cab a few minutes later. _

"_Don't wanna go home," he says, resting his head on her shoulder._

_She had figured as much, knowing that everything there will only serve as a reminder that Milah has left him. "It's okay. We'll go to mine." _

_He crashes on the couch, passing out before she can even get him water. So, instead, she just ensures his comfort, stripping his shoes and vest off, hesitating a moment before also removing his belt to stop the buckle digging into him. He looks different in sleep – a man untouched by the pain of his love leaving him for a husband no one could have predicted existed. _

_His heart is broken, she knows him well enough to understand that, but there is something more in his eyes tonight. The way he had looked at her had almost been…_

_No. _

No.

_She can't torture herself with 'what ifs'. _

_She remembers coming out of her apartment a few years back and seeing a bunch of buttercups lying on the floor by her door. She had always known where they had come from and always wondered why he had never come in that night. _

_She hadn't thought about the buttercups outside her door in a long time but, now, looking down at the peaceful face of Killian, she can't help but wonder about them, about what this whole break up with Milah might mean for them. _

_Brushing a hand across his forehead, she has to resist the urge to lean down and kiss him goodnight._

_In the morning she'll just convince herself that it was the alcohol making her feel things she shouldn't be feeling towards her best friend. In the morning she will push the buttercups to the back of her mind and continue on like she always has. _

_She finds him on the bathroom floor at around 10am, curled in on himself and crying. The alcohol has worked its way back out of his system, but he is clearly still shattered and it kills her that her friend has to go through this feeling. She sits with him until he is ready to talk and swears that Milah will never have her respect again. _

…

_**Good luck tonight. You should wear your blue tie. Milah would like it.**_

Killian smiles at the text before throwing his phone on the bed, next to his discarded blue tie. He knows Emma had suggested that one, but it was a gift from her and, he can't explain it but, he'd feel weird wearing it for another woman's benefit.

He gives himself a once over in the mirror before taking a seat on the edge of the bed and just taking a breath. There is a small part of him that is happy that tonight is happening, but the ruling side has him terrified of what could occur once he's out with Milah. Emma had been right in that his once love had torn him to absolute pieces. He'd thought he'd found someone who he could spend his life with, someone to make him happy even in the saddest of moments. Milah had stood by him at his brother's graveside, held his hand and told him it was all going to be okay. And for the first time in too long, he had believed someone.

He tried to shut out the voice in his head that reminds him that Emma had been at his side when they had lowered Liam into the ground, she had been there to tell him that it was okay to not be okay, she has held him as he'd cried until he had nothing but a sore throat and red eyes. He tries to shut out that voice and fails miserably.

He wonders if Emma's ever thought about that pact they'd made when they were younger. If she's ever wondered what could have been with him. They're both almost 30 and they both seem to be scrambling around in these last few months to find someone so that they can avoid marrying each other. But he's got to wonder sometimes if they shouldn't just give themselves a chance.

It seems fate won't let him ponder that too much longer, a knock at his door bringing him out of his reverie. He leaves his thoughts behind him as he gathers his things and makes his way out to meet Milah.

…

"I have to be honest, I was nervous about how tonight would go," she says shyly, hiding behind a glossy curtain of dark hair.

He lets out a chuckle, "You wouldn't have been the only one."

Holding up her glass in a toast, she lifts her head and says, "To new beginnings."

He agrees, "To new beginnings," before clinking their glasses together and taking a sip.

Dinner had been amazing. She'd brought him to this little seafood place she knew he loved, told him the entire evening was on her and then proceeded to order the most exquisite of sharing plates he'd ever had the luxury of indulging in. They were sipping on wine and rum and his head was pleasantly light, but there was something in the way she'd just toasted that made him feel uneasy. He hadn't dared hope that Milah would want to start over with him at the beginning of the night, but now, now he's terrified that that's exactly what she wants.

Because it might all be easy and familiar with her, but his heart is starting to realise he might want dangerous and difficult if it means a certain blonde will be in his life.

They're still waiting on dessert so Killian excuses himself to the bathroom, pulling out his phone on the way. He stops just short of the restroom, in a small alcove where the sounds of the restaurant fade to nothing. Before he can think about it, he dials Emma's number and holds the phone up to his ear.

After the fifth ring he's about to hang up, but then…

"_What's wrong? What did she do?"_

He has to laugh at her jump to conclusions. After the way he'd been treated in the past, it's no surprise that Emma would want to protect him at all costs.

"Nothing, love. I just wanted to…" how does he say this without sounding like a total idiot? I just wanted to hear your voice. I just wanted to talk to you while I'm on a date with another woman. I just wanted to tell you I love you.

He's a mess and he knows it.

"_Killian, what is it?"_

He notices the sound of cutlery on a plate and of glasses being clinked together, there's the soft babble of people in the background and, "Emma, are you out?"

She sighs through the phone, _"Yeah. I'm um…I'm on a date."_

Oh. _Oh. _

"_Listen, how are things with Milah?" _she asks, her voice carrying a kind of tension to it, like she can't wait to get back to her _date._

"Good, Emma. They're good."

"_Oh. Okay. That's good,"_ she manages to stammer out.

The voice in his head is back, insisting that he reveal his feelings for her. But he knows he won't. Today is not a brave day.

"I had better get back to her."

Her voice is curious then, wondering how come he had called when he has revealed absolutely nothing to her. _"Okay then. Enjoy your night."_

He tries to make it sound like he will, "And you too," but when he hangs up, his head falls back against the wall and he knows he's in trouble.

…

Milah has a grin on her face when he comes back to the table.

"It wasn't me, I swear."

There's a forkful of cake missing from the piece they had ordered to share and he laughs at the way she'd obviously shovelled it into her mouth in an attempt to get it down before he'd returned. "You've still got evidence on her lips there," he says, pointing to the corresponding spot on his own lip.

"Oh, damn. Thought I'd gotten away with it."

He sits back down and they pick at the cake together until Milah breaks their comfortable silence. "I've enjoyed tonight."

He smiles, "As have I."

She looked at him with those blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for months and he is hanging on every word. "I kinda want to do it again."

And he could say no. He could say that tonight was wonderful and they've enjoyed themselves and this is where is must end. They need to walk away on good terms and find their happiness without each other. But, instead, his mouth betrays him and he finds himself saying, "Me too."

It has nothing to do with the fact that Emma is on a date that she hadn't told him about. Nothing at all.

"Great," she says.

And Killian agrees, his heart sinking, "Great."

…

It's only when he's falling into his own bed, after kissing Milah goodnight at her apartment, that he realises he'd agreed to drinks on Wednesday night, the night usually reserved for his weekly catch ups with his friends. The thing is, Milah had always known about those catch ups and the importance of them so, as much as he tries to give her the benefit of the doubt, he has a feeling that she'd been so insistent on that night for a reason.

His friends had always come before any relationship he's been in because he knows the importance of those ties. He's seen too many people in his life disappear and knows that Emma, David and Mary Margaret will always remain permanent. It's easy for someone to become jealous of that, easy for them to want to be more important than that.

There's a heavy feeling in his stomach at the thought of not being able to see Emma this Wednesday and he knows he's heading into dangerous waters with the emotions he's playing with.

But then his phone buzzes from his bedside table and he just has a feeling about who it is.

_**Survive the date?**_

He smiles at her text and replies instantly.

_Yeah. You?_

_**Yeah.**_

_**Coffee tomorrow?**_

He doesn't even have to think.

_Of course._

She sends back a smiley face and he exits out of their message thread, the sinking feeling leaving him completely. And he thinks it's about time he addresses that feeling.

Opening up another message, he taps out a text to David.

…


	5. Don't Know How

_**So I realised that you guys aren't privy to a certain piece of info my pals on tumblr have. I feel that I should tell you that this will be an eight chapter fic. Well, seven chapters and an epilogue. So we are past the halfway point and on the downward stretch. **_

_**Thank you all for your ongoing support :)**_

…

Chapter Five

…

_Her back is pressed up against the wall as she slides down, the dull sounds of music chasing them through the hallways of their school as the rest of their classmates dance the night away. Killian takes another swig of rum from his flask before sliding down the wall next to her and handing the liquor over. _

_They laugh as they drink in a rush, pink colouring their cheeks as the heat of the alcohol settles in their bellies leaving them decidedly warm and hazy. He holds out his hand and she places the flask back in it, but he shakes his head, leaving the small bottle on the ground between them and holding out his hand again, fingers splayed wider this time. _

_She smiles, slipping her fingers in between his, leaning her head back against the wall and turning to him. His eyes are even bluer with the rum coursing through him, his lips pink and his cheeks flushed and she wants to kiss him. But she chases that feeling away, because one couple in their little group is enough – the odds of Emma and Killian standing the test of time as well as Mary Margaret and David is scarily low. High school sweethearts are rare and wonderful and she doesn't know if she and Killian fall into that category. _

_So she just smiles at him and leans her head down on his shoulder, holding onto every moment that he presses a kiss against the crown of her head. _

"_You look beautiful tonight," he says._

_She brushes it off easily with, "You're only saying that because you're my date."_

_But he won't let that stand. His fingers come up to cup her cheek as he slides around to face her, gaze meeting hers with a striking intensity, "I would tell you anyway, you know. No matter who you were here with. I would always be sure that you know how gorgeous you are tonight."_

_Her mouth goes dry and she can't escape the feeling surrounding her. There is still a small amount of protest in her saying to not give in, to hold strong, but she's wanted this for too long, wanted _him_ for too long. _

_His lips meet hers in a soft kiss, just a press of lips that sparks an intense reaction in both their bodies. Hearts racing and skin tingling, he tenderly pulls her in to tilt her head and deepen the embrace. Her hand finds its way to the lapel of his jacket, tugging on it in an attempt to get closer to him, something that needs little coaxing. _

_She's glad she had chosen a black dress, all the dirt from sliding around the floor would be well concealed at least, she muses to herself, smiling into the kiss. _

_Killian pulls back slightly, forehead still resting against hers, and asks, "What?"_

_They're still leaning into one another, but his soft question is enough to bring them back to reality. Emma inclines back to meet his gaze, "We really shouldn't."_

_And he nods, knowing she's speaking logically. They're not Mary Margaret and David._

"_I know."_

"_I- I mean, it was nice. But we're not... We can't…"_

_She doesn't have to justify it to him. He's sure he would only break her heart if given the chance, not to mention that in a matter of months their lives will be infinitely different –studying and working and being adults in the big bad world, "I know."_

"_But maybe one day," he looks up at her in hope, "when we're older, if there's no one else…"She doesn't know where this is coming from, but she can see that he likes it and a spark of hope ignites in her as well._

_He smiles, getting to his feet and pulling her up with him, only to make a show of dropping down on one knee in front of her. "Emma Swan," he says dramatically, holding tight to one of her hands, "If we both make it to 30 and we haven't found that special someone, will you marry me?"_

_There are so many feelings rushing through her right now, her skin still tingling from the kiss she shared with him, her hands shaking where he's got a hold on them, hope bubbling in her that one day, by some chance, she could be walking down the aisle towards her best friend – it all feels surreal. "Yes," she says, smiling as he kisses her knuckles and pulls himself up from the ground._

_And it feels real somehow. Even though they're mucking around and it'll probably never happen, it still feels like it could._

"_Perfect," he agrees, looping her arm through his, "Now, shall we dance?"_

_It seems odd to return to everyone else after they've just shared this moment together, but they both know they can't stay out here all night, they both know that even though they are completely wrong for each other, it won't stop them from doing something they'd regret. So, instead of grabbing him by the tie and letting her lips land on his again as her fantasy mind is telling her to do, she nods and takes the first steps back towards the hall where the music is beckoning to them. "We shall."_

…

"So," he begins, looking at her over the rim of his mug, "who's the lucky guy?"

It sounds casual enough, but he curses his voice for giving away that there is more than mere curiosity in his enquiry. He's been stewing on it all night and he knows that he has no right to be, which makes him feel worse for doing it. It's just that from the moment they met, Emma has always told him about any date she's gone on, apart from Neal. And Neal was serious. Until Neal broke her heart.

A smile crosses her face and all he sees is the potential for this guy to hurt her, an intense protectiveness rising up in him. It's not fair; he doesn't even know this guy's name.

"Walsh," she says, oblivious to his inner monologue, "he's a lawyer."

It might be that he's already on edge, or it could be that he's always been able to read her voice, but he just knows that this guy works in opposition to her. He can just feel it, "Criminal defence?"

She sighs, "Unfortunately, yes."

"So you make sure they make their court date and then he tries to turn them loose?"

"I mean, it's just his career. It's not who he is as a person."

Killian raises his eyebrows at that, not speaking a word but still saying everything she doesn't want to hear.

"Hey! Like you're one to talk," she counters to his loud eyebrows. "How was your date last night?"

He momentarily stills before reacting, "Fine. I told you it was fine."

This time she raises her eyebrows at him, "And so you bought me comfort food today because you're not seeing her again?" she asks, eyeing the sizeable slice of chocolate cake between them. She knows him well enough that he often tries to soften the blow of bad news with some kind of sweet.

He tries aversion, answering her question with another question, "Why does it matter so much to you if I see her again?"

But she sees right through him, "Probably the same reason it matters so much to you that I didn't tell you about Walsh."

The tension between them stretches like a rubber band on the verge of breaking. They both know _exactly _why it matters so much. They've been teetering on this edge for too long and it's starting to get to them, the cracks are starting to show.

Emma breaks first – leaving her half-finished drink and the slice of cake, she stands up, "You know Killian, we weren't signing a contract when we made that childish pact. You don't have to rush into something you don't want just to avoid a lifetime with me. Believe me, I will _not_ be holding you to it."

There is such venom in her tone, especially for someone who had been laughing at something ridiculous he'd said only minutes ago.

"Emma, wait," he calls out trying to fix this, trying to make it better before she leaves the café. He has a feeling that ignoring it until it goes away won't be a successful tactic this time.

But she's already gone. And for the first time in their friendship, he doesn't know when he'll hear from her again.

…

It happened so fast. The band snapped and she was just _angry _with him and couldn't stop it. They've been living in denial for too long and it's about time it was addressed.

She ignores his calls, instead getting on Skype and delighting in the fact that Mary Margaret must have received her text because as soon as she's logged on, there's a call coming in.

"Hello," she tries experimentally, waiting for the lag to catch up and the webcam to connect.

Mary Margaret's voice reaches her before her picture does, but within a few seconds, they're both looking at each other and… "Where _are _you?"

The brunette looks around, "Storage closet, I think. What? You said you wanted to talk alone and I'm on my honeymoon. David wants to be with me every second of the day."

Emma smiles, "I'm sorry. I just needed my best friend's advice. But, first, how are you?"

Mary Margaret waves her hand through the air, "I'm in love, like I've been for a long time. We're having fun and being that sickly honeymoon couple and I never want to come back. But what is the big emergency?"

She'll always love her best friend, but she doesn't think she's ever loved her as much as now. Blowing off a morning of her honeymoon to sit in a broom closet and talk about someone else's love life is taking it up a level.

She's thought a lot about how to approach this subject but, in the end, it's coming down to the Bandaid technique. "I think I might have feelings for Killian," she says in a rush, looking at her friend expectantly, like she holds all the answers to her unasked questions.

Instead, her eyes widen and she stands up from what Emma can only assume was a bucket from the noise it makes as it tips and rolls away. "Ohhh," she starts, flinging the door open and practically running down the hallway, "Emma, I know you wanted to keep this between us, but David actually might have some valid input on this."

"Mary Margaret, I don't think…"

But the door to their hotel room is already open and David's face fills her screen before she can protest any further.

"David, tell Emma about the messages you received last night."

For her part, Emma smiles and waves, "Hi Dave, happy honeymoon."

David smiles, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Hey Em," he replies, turning to Mary Margaret who is out of the bounds of the screen, "What's going on?"

"You need to tell Emma about the conversation you had with Killian."

She watches as David pulls out his phone and opens to the messages, listens as he reads them out and smiles when he comes to an end. "Emma, he's been in love with you for a long time. It's just now that he's figuring it out. Believe me, this isn't the first time we've spoken about you."

Emma bites her lip, not sure how to put the rush of emotions she's feeling into words.

Mary Margaret's voice floats back into the conversation, "You should call him."

"And I should let you get back to your honeymoon."

The newlyweds laugh lightly. "Let us know what happens though," David asks, "We'll see you next weekend."

They do the awkward wave while trying to work out who is going to hang up the call thing and, once they're gone, Emma takes a deep breath. She had always wondered if Killian had thought about the two of them, if he'd asked the same questions to the ceiling, as he lay in bed, that she had. It's a weird feeling to know that he has.

She reaches for her phone, flicking past the few notifications of messages from Walsh to open her contacts. But, before she can call Killian, she hears a knock at her door.

Her heart jumps into her throat, eyes widening. Of course he would come here to talk – the man knows her better than she knows herself and that means he knows she needs to be sought out after a disagreement. She's not ready for this but, at the same time, she really truly is.

Her feet carry her towards the door, hope swelling in her chest and then, "Walsh?"

He holds up a hand in greeting, "Hey."

She frowns, then remembers the conversation she'd had with him the night before, "Oh my god. I completely forgot about drinks tonight. Is it six already?"

He smiles, "Afraid so."

He's a nice guy, Emma can see that, so it makes it hard to turn him away now. But she knows it's the right thing to do.

They've only been on one date and he only has smiles for her as she tells him her life is a little too complicated for dating right now. He offers to marry her instead if that'd be easier and she laughs at the irony of that statement.

Hugging her, he wishes her luck and turns away from her door, heading back down the stairs of her apartment building.

He's barely out of sight when Emma's eyes land on another figure coming up the stairs. She knows it's Killian and smiles, biting her lip while she waits for him to look up and see her.

…

_**Thoughts?**_


	6. But I'm Gonna Get To You

_**Still blown away by all your wonderful response. I can't thank you all enough for your encouragement towards this fic. We're getting towards the end now so I hope you're all ready for some pay off :)**_

…

Chapter Six

…

"_Okay, I get it, this is pretty cool," Killian says, sliding onto a barstool._

_David hops up next to him, "It's not too late to come here, you know?"_

_Killian looks around the bar, adorned in Harvard flags and banners, and waves his hand dismissively, "No, this is definitely yours and Mary Margaret's scene. I'm happy on the docks."_

"_Sometimes I wish I'd taken that option too. Studying is hard and Mary Margaret and I hardly see each other, let alone have time to catch up with friends."_

_Killian tips his beer towards his mate, clinking their glasses, "Well then I am honoured to have some time to myself with you."_

_It's been a few months since Mary Margaret and David had returned to Boston to continue their third year of studies. Killian had some time built up to take off, so he decided to pay them a visit before returning with them to New York for the Christmas break. None of the four of them had much in the way of family, so they had all been spending the holidays together since the end of school. It was always nice to have everyone home. _

_They're a few beers in when David asks about Emma, about how she's going and if she's joining them for Christmas. Killian sort of hesitates before answering with, "I suppose she is," which sets off alarm bells straight away for David. _

"_What's going on with you two? You haven't finally hooked up and are doing the awkward 'how do we tell our friends?' thing, are you? Because let me assure you, Mary Margaret and I have been waiting for this for…"_

_Killian holds up his hands, chuckling, "Dave, mate, it's quite the contrary."_

_David stops mid-rant, inclining his head in silent question._

_To which Killian shrugs, "I haven't seen her in a few weeks, haven't really heard from her either – the odd text here and there but, other than that, nothing."_

"_Hmm, is she dating someone? You know how she worries if we'll approve."_

_Killian shakes his head, "Not that I know of and she usually tells me all about the guys in her life – it's you she worries about with that information."_

_David smiles, fondly remembering that poor Graham Humbert who he had caught kissing Emma outside of homeroom in their junior year. Detention had never felt so right, but an overwhelming wave of protectiveness had just overcome him and he had to get the boy off the girl who he thought of as a sister._

_Emma hadn't been even mildly impressed however, leading to her usually confiding in Killian when there was a new man on the scene for her. _

"_In fact," Killian starts again, averting his gaze, "I thought Emma and _I_ had been quite close before she just stopped communicating."_

_David's eyebrows shoot up, "Oh so it _is_ that you've hooked up and are feeling awkward?"_

_The other man smiles, bringing his beer to his lips, "We shared a moment recently," he recalls fondly. They had been out for a few drinks to celebrate her landing a new job in bail bonds. Except a few drinks had turned into a few more shots of tequila and had left them stumbling back to her apartment, laughing at anything and everything along the way until they were seated on her couch and suddenly there wasn't anything to laugh at any more because all they could do was stare at each other and wonder how they could go so long without kissing each other. _

_It had been drunken and sloppy and heated and passionate. His hands had scooped beneath her sweater, running across her back and down to her hips, guiding her as she had straddled him and rocked forward. His breath had been hot against her neck, teeth biting and tongue licking as her moans urged him on. _

_But then she had suddenly pulled back, hand covering her mouth, and he had seen that look before, "Bathroom, now! Don't you dare throw up on me."_

_She had made it to the toilet, letting the alcohol take its burning path out of her once more. He'd held her hair and slid down on the cool tiles next to her, chuckling when she had turned her head up to look at him, shame shadowing her features. _

"_Probably a good thing anyway," she had said, bracing herself against the toilet and pushing herself up to wash her mouth out in the sink, "We would be a terrible idea."_

_They'd crashed together in her bed and when they'd woken up the next morning, they were back to normal. Still, there had been this unusual undercurrent to their conversation that morning. But that had been the last time they'd spoken._

"_Well it's about time," David says, breaking Killian's reverie._

_He smirks, "It would be if she would speak to me."_

_David pats his friend on the shoulder, "Maybe she's waiting for you to go to her."_

_All Killian can do for the next week in Boston is think about talking to Emma and how he's going to ask her out, his heart swelling and his hope soaring that she will say yes. He barely waits an afternoon after returning from Boston before purchasing a bunch of buttercups on a whim, thinking of her tattoo, and making his way over to her apartment._

_He knocks against her door, smiling when it swings open. Only it's not Emma smiling back at him. Taking advantage of the fact that the man opening the door is calling out over his shoulder that he'll get the door, Killian throws the buttercups to the side._

"_Hi," the man says, finally facing Killian, "Can we help you?"_

_We? _We?

"_I uh, I was just wondering if Emma was in."_

_The man nods, answering slowly, "Yeah…"_

_And Killian realises that he's the outsider in this situation. He's known Emma for nearly a decade and he's the bloody outsider._

"_I'm Killian," he tries, and is grateful when the man's eyes grow wide in recognition._

"_Killian, hi," he holds out a hand to shake, "Nice to meet you. I'm Neal. Let me just go see if Ems wants to see you."_

_He immediately bristles at that and shakes his head. He is not at all prepared for this, not ready to be turned down by her again, so he simply takes that choice out of the equation. "You know what, it's okay. I can see you're busy."_

_It takes a lot of effort for him to be the bigger man in this situation, to walk away before he embarrasses himself and storms into the apartment to save Emma from this man who doesn't even know that "Ems" is not an appropriate nickname for his best friend – who doesn't even seem to know that they're best friends. _

_He walks away and, as he does, he silently promises himself to move on because, as it seems, she so easily has. _

…

His eyes lock on the man coming away from Emma's apartment and he has to stop to catch his breath because he doesn't know if he can do this again. Turning up at his best friend's place with romantic gestures in mind never seems to work out for him, but this time he had been so sure.

It's when he looks up and sees Emma watching him through the bannister that he knows his chance with her is still alive.

Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, a whimsical smile on her face.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat when he hears how husky his voice is. He is so affected by her, so in love with her. His hand comes up to the back of his neck as he rounds the top of the stairs, "I sure hope that was you sending Walsh away."

She shrugs, not wanting to show her hand too early, "Why does it matter to you?"

No more games. No more lies. No matter what happened between them early in the afternoon, he is ready for her. He doesn't want to dance anymore. He steps towards her, "It matters because I stopped by Milah's on the way over here and I told her something that I have been very reluctant to admit to anyone. Myself included." Another step, "It matters because what I told her requires you and I to both be free and available."

He's inside her personal space now, shoes butting up against her toes as she looks up at him, "And what is it exactly that you told her?"

He doesn't hesitate, not for a moment, "That I am in love with you."

She doesn't think she's breathing. She had expected him to say he wants to date her, or that he has thought about them together. But love? Love is so much. Love is everything she hasn't had in her life. Love is something she thought she'd never be lucky enough to have given to her.

"And what did Milah say?" She doesn't want to dare to hope.

The corner of Killian's lips tilt upwards in a small smile, "She said that it was about time I admitted it."

An answering smile crosses Emma's features, one hand sliding up his arm to cup the side of his face, knowing then and there that Killian Jones had always had her heart. "That was most definitely me sending Walsh away."

His eyes close and he breathes out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. When his eyes open again, Emma is infinitely closer to him, the green of her eyes blurring before his as she leans in and presses her lips against his.

It's weird to think that this is the third time that they've kissed but it feels like the very first and he realises that it's because it's the first time he's known, with every fibre of his being, that she will not pull away, that this pair of lips will be the last he kisses.

His response is almost instantaneous, his hands sliding down her hips and the backs of her thighs, lifting her gently into his arms, legs wrapping around his hips as he steps them both inside her door, turning them around to press her up against it and leaning into her with insistent heat.

Her hands come between them to tear at his shirt, ripping past buttons until his chest is bare and she can lay her warm hands on his hot skin. He groans at the contact and rocks his hips forwards, pressing her harder against the door and relishing in her answering whimper of pleasure.

"I have wanted you for so long," he whispers against her bare collar bone as he tugs her shirt to the side to give him a clear path. It's not fast enough for Emma though and she reaches down to the hem of her shirt to simply pull it over her head, sliding her bra off while she's at it and pulling herself up against his chest. He takes the hint, supporting her bare back as he moves away from the door and towards her bedroom.

She arches her back as he lays her down on the bed and he takes full advantage of that, licking and nipping his way down her chest. Emma's hips wriggle under his tortuous ministrations when his fingers reach for the button on her jeans, "Should this be weird?" she asks, meeting his gaze as he glances back up her body from his position down around her belly button.

"Is it weird?" he asks, immediately stopping the trail of his fingers over the fly of her jeans.

She bites her lip, "Not even a little bit weird."

He breathes out a sigh of relief and she laughs as it tickles the sensitive skin of her stomach. His hands return to pulling her jeans off her body and her laughter dissolves into moans as his lips fall against the warm flesh of her core.

But she has other ideas, fingers curling around the back of his neck and dragging him up her body. When he looks at her curiously, she merely says, "We've got all the time in the world for that. Right now, I need _you._"

He smiles, helping her in her pursuit to push his jeans and briefs off his legs, lays soft kisses against her cheek, her neck, her forehead, the tip of her nose – each moment whispering how divine she is, how beautiful she is, how happy she makes him…

"I love you, too," she breathes out when he settles inside of her, their bodies both humming with the moment.

He smiles, shifting his hips and she moans, tipping her head back. He's slow and gentle with her, building her up until she's sitting on the edge of oblivion and he's right there with her, about to tip and fall into the unknown together. Always together.

Her breath hitches and he bites down on her shoulder to contain his soft cries, hips still rocking into her tightened heat to bring them both down.

…

It's later, when they're curled up in each other's still naked bodies, blankets thrown haphazardly over them, breathing slowing and evening out as they drift towards sleep, that he asks her, "You know it's my birthday on Saturday?"

She smiles, "Mmm."

"I would love it if you would be my date to the party."

She nods, turning her head to kiss his chest where she is lying, "Of course," she says, smirking, "Who else would go with you anyway?"

He resists the temptation to pinch her in retaliation but, other than that, things are just like they have always been between them. And that thought brings him into a restful slumber.

…

_**Thoughts?**_

_(A/N: Also, to my guest commenter who believes that Mary Margaret and David waiting 12 years to marry is unrealistic, you asked why they waited so long – the answer is, simply, life. I didn't think this warranted an explanation in the fic as each love story is different and there is no formula to when the opportune time to marry is. I hope you don't see this comment as rude, I simply had no other place to reply.)_


	7. You're My Mirage

_**Love you all so much! Never stop being so wonderful!**_

_**Second last time I will post on this fic – I'm not ready to let it go. But I hope you enjoy it!**_

…

Chapter Seven

…

"_Emma?"_

_A sniff._

"_Emma, are you okay?"_

_Another sniff, maybe a slight hiccup. He can practically hear her opening and closing her mouth, searching for the words._

_Then…_

"_Neal left me." _

_Killian hugs his phone closer to his ear daring not to be hopeful at her misfortune._

"_Oh Emma."_

_He hears her shuffling around and then a sigh, "It's okay. It's for the best. I just need my friend right now."_

"_I can be there in-"_

"_No," she says, cutting him off immediately, "No don't come here."_

"_But-"_

"_No," she insists and he silently nods at her request, settling back in his bed and listening for anything from the other end of the phone. _

"_Please don't take this the wrong way, but it'll be nice to see you smile again."_

_She's silent for a long moment and Killian worries that he's said the wrong thing, that he's gone and put his foot in it. He's mentally berating himself about there being a time and a place for certain things to be said and waiting approximately twenty minutes after a friend's boyfriend has just left is probably not a good time._

_But then she sighs through the phone and he can almost hear the relief in it. "Yeah, it'll be nice."_

"_I'm actually surprised you called me."_

"_Why's that?"_

_He shrugs, "I figure Dave would be the one to contact for beating up your ex."_

_This time a laugh rings in his ears and he closes his eyes, holding onto that perfect sound._

"_That was one time, Killian."_

_They're both replaying the memory of poor Graham being pulled away from Emma so fast that he looked like he was actually flying and another silent moment passes between them, until…_

"_Are you sure I can't come over?"_

_Her voice is so timid, "I'm sure."_

"_I can bring movies and popcorn."_

"_I'll really be okay."_

_He's in the middle of telling her that he's just a phone call away if she needs company at any point when she cuts him off. "Why didn't you tell me you came by?"_

_It's such a rapid turn of conversation that Killian doesn't even have time to process it properly, trying to remember the last time he had been around to her place. "What? When?"_

"_The night with the buttercups."_

_The night with the buttercups. The night with the buttercups. The night with the… _Oh_._

"_Emma, that was so long ago."_

_She's quiet when she answers him, "It doesn't matter any less."_

_He can hear her vulnerability through the phone so he thinks it best to be honest with her, "You were with Neal."_

"_And now I'm not."_

"_And now you're not," he agrees, still failing to see where she's taking this. _

_She's quiet for another long moment, gathering her thoughts. Killian sits up in his bed, waiting for the sound of her voice again. _

"_I need you," she says simply, "I need you to be there when I am here." It takes him a moment to realise she means metaphorically, that she needs his support when she is upset. _

"_I'll always be here for you."_

_He can practically feel her shaking her head as though she is resting against his shoulder, "Not if I ruin us."_

"_You can't ruin us."_

_There are tears in her voice when she speaks again and he knows that she is barely holding it together, "I would have, you know? If you had come in with the buttercups, I would have ruined it all."_

_It seems like a lifetime ago that he stood out front of her place, hope in his heart that she would feel the same about him. It seems like too long ago that Neal took that hope away from them._

"_And now?" It's selfish to ask and he knows that, but she seems to want to tell him something and he'd rather have his heart broken all over again quickly. _

"_Now? Now I don't know. I lose everyone who gets close to me. I can't lose you too."_

_And it's just like that; sudden and all knowing. Killian Jones will go to the end of the world for this woman and, to honour that, he would keep his distance from her, just as she asks._

…

Turns out he's the jealous type. Emma deletes the dating app the morning after they finally admit their feelings toward one another, but she had been in a few conversations with a few men and they had her number and were persistent.

And Killian seems to be bothered by this.

Which Emma finds adorable.

"I'm deleting them as they come in, not even opening them," she laughs, showing him her phone and how he's at the top of her message threads, "You have nothing to worry about, Killian."

It's amazing how much everything has changed in a matter of days, but also how so much has stayed the same. He still raises his eyebrows at her and says that he will _always _worry about her, but now that promise is punctuated with gentle kisses to her brow as they roll around in the sheets of whichever bed they happen to be sharing that night.

"I can't believe you're turning 30 today _and_ you have to face David, my ultimate protector, for the first time since we hooked up and you're most concerned about a couple of errant messages from people I was only talking to to distract myself from how in love with you I am."

He doesn't think he'll ever tire of hearing her say that, kissing her slowly and rolling them until he hovers above her, "I think I have my priorities in order."

She smiles, accepting his lingering kisses and whispering, "Happy birthday," against his lips.

…

Despite it being Killian's birthday, they dedicate a fair amount of the small gathering at the local bar to talking about Mary Margaret and David's honeymoon, this being the first time they've seen the couple since their return. Soon though, the crowd splits – a few for the men making their way towards the bar for celebratory shots. Emma and Mary Margaret watch on as David orders a round of tequila for himself, Killian and Victor, cringing when the men down their shots with ease.

"I'm going to be nursing him back to health tomorrow, aren't I?" Emma asks, already knowing the answer.

Mary Margaret just smiles, that having been the first indication from Emma that all had gone well the other night after their Skype call. "Mmhmm," she hums, turning to look at her best friend and wondering if she knows that she has the most love sick smile plastered on her face right now.

Emma can feel that she's being watched and turns to Mary Margaret, shrugging, "What?"

"You told me that you'd let us know how it went the other night."

Emma's eyes are caught by the men knocking back shot number two and she raises her eyebrows at the display before answering her friend, "We didn't want to disturb your honeymoon any further."

The shorter woman is practically bouncing on her toes, "Well I'm not on honeymoon anymore, Emma. What happened?"

There's an impatience in her voice that has Emma tempted to torture her a little more, but the truth that she really can't wait to share the news on she and Killian becoming something more than friends. So she pulls Mary Margaret into a booth and begins to explain how the night had unfolded, telling her all about Walsh and Milah and her own doubts and insecurities which had been obliterated the moment she and Killian had kissed.

Mary Margaret looks like she's going to cry from grinning so hard when Emma finishes speaking, hugging her and saying, "I knew you two would work it out in the end."

Everyone around them seems to have had the same reaction when they've found out and Emma is starting to wonder if she was possibly the last person to know how in love with Killian she is. She hugs her friend back then glances over the bar to where Killian and David seem to be in a deep conversation. Her heart speeds up at that, because despite the whole world knowing that they're made for each other, there are only two people whose opinions matter. She had just received a very positive reaction from one. The other had been trying to get rid of her potential suitors since high school.

She decides to give David a few more minutes alone with Killian before jumping in to rescue him, but before she can get too nervous about what's transpiring, Killian turns his head, locking eyes with her momentarily and smiling. Her heart stops pounding for fear and starts for hope. She turns back to Mary Margaret and relief must be evident on her face because the brunette takes her hand and nods, "It's okay. David wants this almost as much as you."

…

"You know you don't have to give me this speech, Dave."

The blonde man smiles into his beer as he takes a mouthful, "You know I do."

"I won't hurt her. Not ever."

"I know you won't."

"Then why must you persist?"

David sighs, setting his beer down, "Because I need to give you a different kind of speech."

Killian's listening. His beer reaches the bar top as well, giving his full attention to his friend, "And what kind of speech would that be?"

"Don't ever let her go."

"Dave, I-"

"No, listen. You two have always had your own language, your own way of speaking to each other. Even at the beginning when it was mostly Emma hanging out with us because of Mary Margaret, you two still had a bond." He raises his head slightly, making sure Killian can see his honesty, "Things will be tough sometimes and you will fight, but don't let her go."

Killian turns his head, eyes finding Emma's in the crowd, and smiles. The answering look in her eyes is enough for him to know that making this promise to David will be easy. He waits a beat then turns back to his friend, "I won't."

…

They sleep on his couch that night, too exhausted and slightly too drunk to make it any further. His hand on her hip holds her in place while his breath tickles the back of her neck. They're both half undressed, their rush to get to each other when they walked through the door too intense, but he's thrown a blanket over them to keep from getting cold.

She wakes up in his arms and rolls towards him.

His breath smells like stale beer and his brow looks slightly sweaty. She's a bit too warm in his hold and the couch is scratchy against her bare legs. It's far from the perfect way to wake up but, she realises, she doesn't care. It's been fifteen years since they met, fifteen years that her heart has wanted him. Through all the blissful highs and crushing lows – she _knows _this man.

Her fingertips trace the lines of his face, eyes so focused on the tiny details that she doesn't notice when his eyes open. He smiles at her gentle touch then turns his head down into the cushion he's lying on, muttering about not wanting to breathe on her with alcohol breath.

She kisses his forehead and rolls herself off the couch to go have a shower, turning back just once more to take in his sleeping form. He's scruffy and beautiful and she loves him. She _loves _him.

Somewhere, in the back of her memory, where she keeps her doubts and worries, she recalls a time when she had been sitting, teary eyed, on the other side of town, wishing she were a strong enough person to let Killian Jones into her life. And now? Well now she knows he will always be there. Now she knows that she won't lose him.

His eyes slowly open again, squinting into the sunlight and focusing on Emma's silhouette against the curtains. "What is it?" he asks, his voice barely above a mumble.

She smiles and shrugs, "Just thinking about the past."

It's like he can read her mind, "Buttercups?"

She nods, the happiness she feels practically radiating off her, "I don't know why I was ever so worried."

…

_**Thoughts?**_

_So it's done…kind of. The epilogue ties it all together, so I truly hope you stick around for it too. It'll be up within the week! _


	8. Epilogue

_**So…this is it. I had such fun with this fic and hope you have all enjoyed it. I might revisit this story one day down the track but, for now, here's the final chapter to this part :)**_

_..._

_Epilogue_

…

_6 months later…_

"Elsa Frost," Emma says, pondering the name, "suits you. Especially considering you chase the winter around the world."

Elsa smiles, "Yeah, well, I guess some things are just meant to be." Her eyes slide over to where Killian is standing talking to Elsa's new husband, Jack.

Emma follows her gaze, "Yeah, I suppose they are."

Elsa's sister grabs her by the arm, spinning her around and babbling about how they need her to cut the cake and she can't wait to taste the chocolate. Emma smiles at their bond, thinking of her own sisterly relationship with Mary Margaret.

Killian comes up behind her, slipping his hand into hers and making their way, with the crowd, towards the cake. He leans over and whispers to her, "You know, only a true friend would give up her birthday for a wedding."

She smiles, "So you keep saying."

He kisses her cheek, "I just don't want you to think I've forgotten your special day amongst Elsa and Jack's."

She turns her head up to look at him, "I know you haven't."

If the incredible amount of attention he's paid her is anything to go by, she doesn't think she'll be forgetting her birthday any time soon. He'd doted on her with breakfast in bed, bought her the most stunning dress she'd ever worn, kissed her until she had to reapply her makeup and redo her hair and, every so often, he'd just remind her again how special she was.

It was almost too much to handle how perfectly gentlemanly he was being.

He's leaning into her again and she feels her eyes fluttering closed at his proximity. After six months of being in every moment of each other's life, she thought the magic would be wearing off a little. But she supposes that it never goes away when you find someone to truly love.

She can feel the warmth of his breath flickering across her lips, but then the speeches start and they have to behave. So he grips her hand, reminds her again how amazing she is for giving up her birthday for the wedding and they turn their attention to the bride and groom cutting their cake.

…

Killian sets Emma down as they step through the door to her apartment, having piggybacked her up the stairs, her shoes clutched in her hand. She kisses him and drops her shoes, stepping up to the fridge to slide a new set of photos in next to the ones from Mary Margaret and David's wedding.

Killian comes up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder, turning his head slightly and kissing her cheek. "What were we even doing in that one?" he asks, laughter shaking through his body and into hers.

She leans in closer to inspect the stupid faces they're pulling and, in the end, just shrugs, "I have no idea."

She sighs into his embrace, swaying with her back to his chest to some unknown tune he's humming into her ear. There's a delicious haze of champagne and chocolate fogging the edges of her vision making her feel relaxed enough to close her eyes.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says softly.

She chuckles lightly, "You're only saying that because you're my date."

He kisses her cheek, "You look beautiful every night."

And she doesn't know what to say to that because she can hear the absolute honesty in his voice and doesn't want to downplay it. So she just stays silent, humming along with him and swaying in the kitchen of the apartment that has become more theirs than hers.

Eventually they break apart and Emma heads towards the shower, pulling Killian in under the spray with her when he comes in to see if she wants a cup of tea before bed. She laughs as she strips off his shirt, kissing her way down his chest and unbuttoning his trousers. He pulls her back up and presses her against the cool tiles. "Uh uh, darling," he murmurs, kissing a path down her torso, "It's _your _birthday." He smiles from between her thighs, ducking his head and letting his tongue slide out to touch her sensitive folds.

The soft flow of water over her hips brings with it the scent of coconuts and lime from her soap and he groans into the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, loving every second of tasting her. Her fingers slide through his hair until they catch and hold on, insistent that he remains right where he is until she lifts on her toes, her eyes slamming shut and whimpering cries echoing in the tiled room.

His tongue follows a path back up her body, capturing her lips with his and kissing her until they're both breathless. "That was…" she starts.

"Amazing," he finishes, the intensity in his gaze leaving no doubt as to _who_ he is referring to.

He's hard as a rock under her touch, leaning into her when she takes him in her hand, "Darling, we don't have to."

But she's already hitching a leg on his waist and guiding him towards her entrance. He likes to go slow, but the water has her so slick and her last release has her so ready for him. The delicate slide of her body as it takes a hold of his is intoxicating and suddenly the steam around them feels suffocating, like he's drowning in her and he doesn't want to escape. But then her soft fingertips are on his face and his chin is being drawn up so he can met her gaze and he can breathe again, moving against her until they both cry out as the world shatters and rebuilds around them.

…

He leaves the bathroom first, towel wrapped low on his hips and hair still dripping. When she exits a few minutes later, wrapped in a silk dressing gown, she understands why.

"What is…"

Killian turns around from his position next to the bed, smiling as he holds out his hand. "I wanted to do this a little differently, but uh," he scratches the back of his neck that way he does when he's nervous, "time kind of got away from me."

She looks down at the watch on her wrist and sees that it's well past midnight, yet every clock around her room – and there seem to be _a lot _more clocks than there were before she showered – reads ten past eight.

"What's going on?" she asks timidly, taking his hand and following his lead.

"You were born at 8:15 in the evening, correct?"

She nods in affirmation.

He smiles, "I wanted to do this before then, but the wedding kind of impeded."

She bites her lip, the pieces of the puzzle starting to make sense, "What did you want to do?"

He laces their fingers of one hand and pulls a small box out from under a pillow with the other. "I wanted to ask you to marry me before we were both thirty." Using his thumb, he flicks open the velvet box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring, "I didn't want you to think this was just because of a pact, that my feelings were any less because of the choices we made when we were young." He presses a kiss against the knuckles of the hand he has clasped in his, "Emma Swan, at the age of 29 years and 11 months," his eyes flick around the room to ensure the clocks are still before 8:15, "and with two minutes to go, will you marry me?"

The smile that spreads across her face is intoxicating and Killian finds himself following her lead and grinning. She looks from the ring up to his face, eyes shining in the dim light of the room, "Well, who else is going to?"

He laughs, swinging her into his arms and burying his face in her neck before setting her back down and slipping the ring over her finger. She's never been one for flash jewels so he has picked well, a delicate band and a shining diamond flanked on either side by sapphires that remind her of the blue of his eyes. She admires it with a smile, holding her hand against Killian's shoulder before letting her eyes slide up to meet his.

The look on his face is one of utter adoration and she can't resist pulling him in for another kiss.

…

Their wedding is at the waning end of the following summer, the leaves on the trees taking on a yellow tinge and matching the smattering of late season buttercups in Emma's bouquet that is held quietly in Ruby's hands as Emma takes her first steps towards her husband on the dance floor.

"You know you won't be able to pry that from her hands to toss it later, right?"

Emma smiles, knowing full well that Ruby has been hinting rather loudly at Victor that everyone else seems to be getting married. "I think we have bigger things to worry about," she says, stepping into his waiting arms, still unsure how this whole dancing thing is supposed to work. The sun is setting behind her, casting warmth across her back, but still, his hand guiding her is all she can focus on as he leads her expertly around the wooden floor they'd had constructed for the outdoor event.

"When will you learn, darling, that I have always got you."

He twirls her out and spins her back into his chest, kissing her soundly as the rest of their guests move onto the dance floor. She breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that all eyes are off her, and leans into Killian's embrace.

"You look beautiful tonight," he mumbles into her ear.

And she can't help but grin, thinking of the first night he'd told her that and how the little pact they made had changed their lives. It's hard to imagine a time when this wasn't all she wanted. "You're only saying that because you're my husband."

…

(The photos that she puts up on the fridge after their wedding are by far her favourite.)

…

_End._

…

_And that's it… It's all done. _

_Thank you for reading and reviewing and taking that time out of your day. You're all beautiful creatures who I adore lots! _

_This is my 10__th__ year on ffnet, so keep an eye out for something a little special during the hiatus to celebrate! Have a happy weekend, wherever in the world you are :)_

_And last, but not least:_

_**Thoughts? ;)**_


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